


Eventually, It Will Be Okay.

by KHlove065



Category: Glee
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 05:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHlove065/pseuds/KHlove065
Summary: "But grief has an interesting way of re blossoming into something unique, something that uses pain as a foundation to rebuild and create expressions of love so solid and serene and cathartic, that sorrow has no choice but to give in to joy."Missing scenes from season 5, as well as several years after, of Blaine's experience mourning the death of Finn Hudson.





	Eventually, It Will Be Okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This story comes with the immediate disclaimer that this is about death, specifically the passing of Finn Hudson, and that while there are no graphic depictions of anything directly involving Finn, and the story focuses more on the rebuilding process of his family than anything else, it is very emotional. If this is not for you, I advise you don't read it. It does stay true to it's rating, I can promise you that. I have been incredibly sick lately, as well neck deep in AP testing, so I've had to abandon my AU and have had little to no time to write. I also just lost one of my best friends, someone whom I love very, very dearly and as a result I spontaneously poured my emotions into this story. My goal was to get it finished as close to Cory Monteith's birthday as possible, as a tribute to him. I feel enough time has passed since his passing that I can write this. I assure you I wrote it in nothing but a respectful and endearing way. I really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> (Also, I chose not to use Archive Warnings because the details of his death are not described in any way. If you feel I should add the warning, please do not hesitate to let me know. Thank you.)

Blaine sits on the middle of his bed amidst a sea of homework scattered across the dark green duvet. Soft music flows quietly throughout his room, the remnants of the fading afternoon sun seeping through the open window, dancing on the walls in a golden light.

He tucks his legs underneath him and wills himself to concentrate on his work, despite the sounds of the spring evening- dogs barking, children laughing, the faint hum of a lawn mower and sprinklers, all luring him away from his boring calculus.

He hums along to his music as he flips through his notebook. Near his feet, the screen of his phone jumps to life, glowing with image of Kurt, his beautiful Kurt. Blaine can’t help the grin that immediately spreads across his face or the surge of affection that he feels as he reaches for his phone. Kurt is calling him, not out of obligation, or at their usual time, but because he wants to, because he loves Blaine, because they’re engaged now. He feels wanted, needed, like he’s someone worth cherishing, something he hasn’t felt for the better part of a year. He answers Kurt’s call before the second ring, eager to talk to his fiance and grateful for the distraction. 

He misses the melodious ring of his voice, misses his snarky wit laced into every response. It surprises him how much his chest aches with the need to just hear his lover, how much he longs to be with him. 

He misses his best friend. New York can’t come soon enough.

“Hey beautiful,” he greets, the smile in his voice impossible to hide, his tone sickeningly flirtatious. “To what do I owe this honor?”

His words are met with silence. 

Confused, Blaine pulls the phone away from his ear, glancing at the screen to make sure the call went through.

“Kurt? You there, babe?” he asks. As the silence prolongs, Blaine begins to wonder if the call was an accidental butt dial. He pulls the phone away to hang up when he hears an unmistakable whimper.

He strains hard to listen to the sounds registering through the phone. He hears him. 

Kurt’s there, his breathing erratic and shallow, and he whimpers again, the sound dripping with pain, causing Blaine to instinctively rise to his feet, an action that is completely in vain considering Kurt is several states away.

“Kurt, honey, are you okay?” Blaine beings to panic, a fear rising in his chest as his compulsive need to be Kurt’s protector resurfaces, rendering him completely useless due to the lack of information Kurt’s giving him and the distance between them.

Kurt makes what Blaine thinks is an attempt to speak, though it comes out as a broken sob. In the background, Blaine makes out another noise, a similar noise to Kurt’s though louder, a wail, higher pitched and definitely female- definitely Rachel, Blaine decides when he hears it again, louder still, full of agony.

“Kurt, sweetheart, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” Blaine makes a feeble attempt to keep his voice steady in order to remain calm for Kurt, channeling his nervous energy instead into pacing frantically around his room.

The steady sobs that erupt from the phone stun Blaine into a silence as he freezes suddenly and listens helplessly to the love of his life grieve, the sorrow so distinct in his cries that it all but shatters Blaine’s heart.

The sound alone causes tears to pool in Blaine’s eyes, despite the fact that he has no idea what’s happening. He doesn’t even register the hand he subconsciously covers his gaping mouth with, confusion and terror overwhelming him as he stands motionless, fixed to a spot in the middle of his room, his homework abandoned and prior concerns forgotten.

He listens for what feels like an eternity, powerless, longing for the ability to comfort Kurt, to pull him into his arms and kiss his hair and physically hold him. 

God, he wishes he could just hold him.

“I love you,” he whispers repeatedly into the phone, the mantra no where near sufficient enough for the solace he wishes he could give his fiancé, his better half, the words lost as soon as they leave his mouth, drowned by the sound of Kurt.

Kurt is crying harder than Blaine has ever heard him cry before, deep guttural sounds that rip through his throat and leave him gasping for air. Every ring of his choked sobs cuts into Blaine’s skin, rips open his heart inch by inch, lets him know that something is terribly wrong. It’s a haunting sound of anguish that Blaine hopes he never has to hear Kurt make again, lest it completely destroy Blaine’s heart.

Blaine knows- he just knows, that Kurt’s okay, physically at least. Somebody else isn’t.

“Is Burt okay?” he whispers into the phone when he finds his voice, sick to his stomach with the scenarios that run through his head.

Kurt speaks then, his voice raw and hoarse, thick with emotion.

“Tell Dad,” he chokes out between sobs. “Tell him I’m coming home.”

The confusion that follows Kurt’s words is nothing short of overwhelming, gnawing at Blaine’s stomach and settling uneasily.

If Burt’s okay, then who-?

“Okay,” he responds immediately. “I will.”

“Blaine?”

“Yes, honey?” 

“I love you. More than anything in this world.”

Kurt hangs up before Blaine can respond.

…….

 

“Burt?” Blaine says tentatively into the phone, eyes closed, praying, hoping, pleading even though he feels it, that inevitable feeling that lurks right under his skin, seconds away from consuming him.

It’s the initial shock of Burt’s words that hit him harder than anything else at first. It’s the last thing Blaine expects to hear.

His hands go numb. The phone clatters noisily to the floor. His knees give out.

He crumples to the floor.

This can’t be real.

…….

 

He doesn’t move to get ready for bed. Doesn’t brush his teeth, or turn out the light.

Everything around him is a blur, details insignificant, time meaningless. The realms of day and night become a haze- there’s no separation, no world outside of the one thought, the one truth that is definite and clear, thick like mud in his head as he tries to swim through it without sinking.

He lies there, unwilling to move. The world that waits for him when he gets up will never, for the rest of his life, be the same as the one that existed before he came down.

A part of him refuses to give in, fights the pointless battle, wastes energy as it clings to the cruel idea of hope, that this isn’t true, it can’t be true. A larger part of him knows it is, that it’s beyond anyone’s power to fix, a loss so heavy and cemented and real that it pounds into his heart repeatedly, each blow harder than the one before, breaking him into pieces.

It’s a conflicting battle- torn between believing and rejecting- though never accepting. Accepting means it’s real-

And just because he knows it is real, doesn’t mean he has to accept it.

He expects the tears to come, but they don’t. Not yet, anyway. He doesn’t know what that means.

He suspects they will once he sees Kurt.

He just feels numb.

…….

 

He shuts his car off but leaves his keys in the ignition, closing his eyes and hanging his head, taking a moment to just breathe.

The Hudson-Hummel household looks just as it does any other day, any normal day, the vivid flowers adorning the porch, the lawn neatly mowed, the rustic paint slightly cracked, evident that the home has been lived in and loved.

Inside lies a broken family, reunited with the homecoming of one son, severed permanently by the departure of the other, who will never return home. Blaine doesn’t know if he’s capable of going inside. 

It’s the open window on the second floor, the window to Kurt’s room, that gives him the strength to move, forces him to pull his keys out of the ignition and open his car door.

Kurt’s inside. Kurt needs him.

It’s a beautiful, sunny day, and Blaine hears birds chirping, singing innocently, oblivious to the blanket of grief that has fallen upon him and everyone he loves, the fresh coating of sorrow that has repainted the walls of the house in front of him.

No amount of sunshine can change how dim the world seems to Blaine now.

He doesn’t knock, doesn’t think anyone will answer if he does, just pushes open the door quietly and steps inside, coming face to face with the tangible reality of what’s been lost.

It’s like slamming into a wall when he steps inside- it hits him all at once, the distinct smell of the Hudson-Hummels, the noticeable silence, the pictures that line the walls, displaying a smile of joy that can’t ever be witnessed again.

A pair of shoes sit by the closet door, meant to be worn, meant to be lived in and walked around in, belonging to somebody, somebody’s thoughts and dreams and ideas and talents, belonging to him, and Blaine steps back, slumps against the door because he knew this would be hard, but the weight he feels in his chest is suffocating, unbearable.

Nobody is downstairs, which Blaine is thankful for as he takes several moments to collect himself before he walks slowly up the stairs.

The hallway is daunting. The door to his room is cracked open, frozen in time, waiting for him to return.

A life otherwise gone, set on pause within four walls.

He can’t bring himself to look.

He walks quickly, doesn’t stop till he reaches Kurt’s old room. The door’s closed, but Blaine can feel his presence, knows he’s on the other side, feels himself being pulled into the room.

He shuts the door softly behind him. Kurt lies on his side on the bed, curled around himself, his back to Blaine. He doesn’t move when Blaine enters, but Blaine knows he’s aware of him.

He walks towards the bed. Kurt’s motionless, limp except for the picture he grips tightly in his hand.

It’s one of Blaine’s favorite photos, from graduation, two brothers candidly locked in an embrace of triumph and joy.

Blaine walks around the bed and drops gently to his knees on the soft carpet, his face level with Kurt’s, resting his head on the side of the bed.

He hasn’t seen him since they got engaged, since they spent an entire weekend doing nothing but reveling in each other, in the feeling of them together as one, locked away in a safe haven of love, not a care in the world.

Kurt’s eyes are tired, the dried tear tracks running down his cheeks thick, as if they’ve been there his whole life, as if he’s never known anything else.

He stares at Blaine for several minutes. They don’t say anything, not that Blaine expects Kurt to. What can be said?

Blaine reaches out and runs a hand through his hair. Kurt gives a small, sad smile in response, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and looks more melancholy and painful than anything else. Blaine’s lips curve empathetically in return, his heart breaking further than he thought possible.

He caresses his cheek, his thumb moving slowly over the soft, pale skin.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, and Blaine shakes his head.

“Shh,” he soothes. “It’s okay. It’s alright,” he says, as much to himself as to Kurt.

He looks into Kurt’s wide blue eyes, barring his soul, completely open and vulnerable and he’s not sure who moves first but they move together, Blaine climbing into the bed, arms wrapping tightly around each other as he draws Kurt into a firm hug.

Kurt clings to him as he begins to shake, sobs racking through his body.

The tears finally come.

He doesn’t feel any less numb.

……

He lies with his back against the pillows, Kurt asleep on his chest, their fingers intertwined.

He keeps his gaze on the sleeping boy in his arms. The sight of Kurt grounds him.

He only looks up when he hears faint shuffling by the door. Burt stands in the doorway, watching his son being held by his lover.

Burt’s eyes mirror Kurt’s, wide and blue and doleful, looking infinitely older, his features etched with lines only acquired by experiencing the loss of a child. Blaine locks eyes with him, with the only man that’s ever been a real father to him, and doesn’t miss the look Burt gives him, full of love and understanding.

Blaine wants to run to him and be swallowed up by his strong arms, feels the need to be held like a young child, small and boyish and so weak looking at Burt, unashamed to plead for help in his gaze. He trusts Burt so much.

Burt hears his silent questions, understands his silent agony.

He gives him a nod and Blaine comprehends everything that goes unsaid, the gratitude for comforting Kurt and the consolation that everything will eventually be okay.

He lingers a moment before he walks away and Blaine stares at the air where he stood just seconds before.

He doesn’t know how, but eventually, everything will be okay.

He trusts Burt.

 

…….

He finds himself stranded in an ocean of black.

Unspoken words, unsung songs, moments that were never carried out, dreams that were never fulfilled, love that was never shared lies in front of him, vast entities all compiled into a wooden box, a box much too small to carry the weight of the years that will never happen.

He doesn’t think he’s ever understood the meaning of tragedy until now.

Kurt’s hand finds his.

……..

“I don’t believe in God,” Kurt says in the car after the ceremony. Blaine doesn’t say anything, just drives on, letting Kurt think aloud. He reaches across the center console and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly. Kurt’s silent for a while before he looks shyly over at Blaine.

“Is that okay?” he asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Blaine glances at him curiously, unsure if he’s asking in a general sense, or if he’s wondering about Blaine’s personal feelings regarding Kurt’s beliefs. Blaine’s known for a long time Kurt doesn’t believe in God.

“Of course it’s okay,” he says sincerely, squeezing his hand again. Kurt looks out the window as they ride in silence for the next couple miles.

“Do you?” he asks suddenly, looking earnestly at Blaine this time.

Blaine considers. He wants to say no, wants to be angry and say that he has every reason to hate God, for making him gay, for taking Finn, for allowing the world to be such a painful and devastating place.

If there is a God, he thinks he has a right to be angry.

But if there is a God, he gave him Kurt.

And Kurt’s here. With him. Real and tangible and he would be selfish, arrogant, in the loss of Finn to not express gratitude for the love he still has, for the love he’s been blessed with.

“I think,” he decides. “I think he’s happy, wherever he is.” He smiles at Kurt, who plays with his fingers while he talks. “And I think we will see him again. Where, when, how, I don’t know. In the presence of God or not, I really honestly don’t know. But I think there’s someone up there watching out for us, and I think one day, we will all live in peace, together,” he looks over at Kurt whose eyes are brimming with tears, and for the first time he thinks he sees the slightest hint of hope in his bright blue eyes.

“I think you’re right,” Kurt replies quietly. “I think that will be a beautiful day,” he leans over and kisses Blaine’s cheek.

“It will be.”

 

……..

He figures it must take a while for time to start healing.

Time doesn’t heal. Not in the first month, anyway.

It doesn’t get easier. Not when Kurt leaves, not when Blaine goes back to school, not even when Kurt comes back for Mr. Schue’s week dedicated to Finn.

Singing doesn’t make it easier either.

Singing doesn’t change the past. Singing doesn’t bring him back. Singing doesn’t restore what’s been taken.

He watches her carefully, small and defeated and somehow so strong, and it’s too much.

He grabs Kurt’s hands. He has to hold on.

He grips him tightly, afraid if he loosens his grip he’ll lose him. He’s overwhelmed with the realization of how temporal life is, how everything could be taken from him in an instant and he’s completely powerless against the fate of the world.

They’ve all lost, but nowhere near as much as she has.

Her voice fills the room with an indescribable pain.

He holds on.

Eventually, it will be okay.

 

…….

“You don’t have to sit with me, sweetheart,” Carole says kindly.

They sit on the couch, the fireplace glowing and crackling beside them, the smell of dinner wafting through the house. In front of them, Kurt and Burt stand at the table, laughing quietly, backs bent and concentrated faces mimicking each other as they pour over the one thousand piece puzzle they’re working on.

“I don’t mind,” Blaine replies, taking her hand.

She smiles at him, the embodiment of grace and tranquility amidst the chaos and Blaine feels reassured, because if she can smile, then maybe he can too.

It’s strange, how he can still experience the emotions that have been unjustly taken from him to such a large degree, the love he feels as he watches Kurt, the unity and happy domesticity that stems from the family around him.

Love that was once in the form of skin and blood begins to manifest itself in new ways, simple, quiet ways that would go unnoticed by most, but not to them, because they knew him, because they still know him, because he’s there still.

The loss of the body is inconsequential compared to the love that remains in the soul, the love that still finds a way to hold the walls of the Hudson-Hummel household together, that is present in every family gathering, in every celebration, in every new experience of joy, an old emotion they are slowly reacquainting themselves with.

He’s not with them, but he’s never really gone.

……..

“If it’s a boy, I want his middle name to be Finn,” Kurt declares one night as Blaine stumbles into their bedroom, exhausted after an hour of wrestling their daughter to sleep.

His husband sits in their bed, reading a book, his sharp features illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table, his hair tousled and his glasses sitting crooked on his nose in the most adorable way.

Blaine goes to him, a smile on his face as he cups his jaw with both hands and captures his lips soundly in a soft kiss. He kisses the tip of his nose as he pulls back slightly.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Blaine answers, and Kurt smiles up at him, astoundingly beautiful in the dim light.

“I miss him,” he says, his voice delicate.

Somewhere along the years the delicacy turned from somber and sorrowful, to reverent and admiring, pain transformed into peace by love that slowly, but surely, sealed the broken cracks.

The focus shifted from all that was lost to all that was accomplished, everything that did happen rather than everything that could've happened.

Acceptance allowed them to move on, and remember in a joyous way.

“I know,” Blaine acknowledges gently. He kisses Kurt’s knuckles. “I miss him too.”

“He would’ve loved her you know,” Kurt laughs and Blaine groans.

“At least someone would’ve,” he mumbles and Kurt slaps his arm lightly, grinning at him.

“Oh, hush, she’s an angel. She’s just stubborn sometimes, that’s all,” he says.

“I have no idea where she gets it from,” Blaine rolls his eyes and climbs across Kurt into bed, yelping softly when Kurt pinches his side.

“It was your idea to use my sperm,” he retorts, and Blaine pulls him down into bed, rolling on top of him and attacking him with kisses.

He doesn’t remember exactly when everything became okay, and when he thinks about it for too long, he supposes it never really will be wholly okay.

There’s still some nights that are harder than others. They, specifically Kurt, have a lot of time to reflect as they prepare for their second child, lamenting the loss of a brother who he never had enough time with, who came into his life late and left too early.

Family gatherings are still difficult, holidays are always accompanied by an empty place at the table, an extra gift under the tree, and a heavy reminder followed by the memory of the first few moments, the first few days.

But grief has an interesting way of re blossoming into something unique, something that uses pain as a foundation to rebuild and create expressions of love so solid and serene and cathartic, that sorrow has no choice but to give in to joy.

He lives on, in their memories, in their hearts, in the dazzling hazel eyes of his nephew who graciously honors his name.

Blaine still believes that one day, they will all reunite and live together in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Rest in peace Cory Monteith, and happy, happy birthday. Much love <3


End file.
